


Always On My Mind

by Macabre74



Category: Les Twins
Genre: Aftercare, Brotherly Love, Drunk Texting, Incest, Larry misses Lau, Les Twins - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Spanking, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macabre74/pseuds/Macabre74
Summary: After winning World of Dance 2017, twins Larry and Laurent Bourgeois are busy taking America by storm. With hectic schedules, whirlwind travel, and grueling practices, it's hard for them to take time for themselves, but love finds a way.





	1. Pay Attention to Me (the liquor made me do it)

_"That's a wrap!"_

Raucous cheers and applause echoed through the space as the dance workshop came to an end. Larry and Laurent both took extravagant bows, thanking the attendees for coming and reminding everyone to sign up for the next class, a week from today. Men, women, and dancers as young as eleven years old had gathered for the opportunity to study under the famous twins, made even more popular by their recent win on the World of Dance 2017 program that had catapulted them even further into the mainstream. As a result of this success, they were even more in demand for these classes and workshops, which when added to their already hectic schedule meant their lives were fully-booked lately.

This was wonderful for the Les Twins brand of course, popularity meant exposure, more exposure meant more popularity, and at the end of the day, all of that meant they were getting paid. Right this moment though, Larry would have traded all of that money for bit of attention from his brother. Well, maybe not all of the money, but certainly some of it. It'd been nearly two weeks since they'd had any time to themselves; doing the circuit of talk shows and guest appearances had eaten up their free time, and their new team of agents in the US had taken it upon themselves to book the pair into separate hotel rooms in every city they'd stayed in, meaning even when it was time for bed they didn't get those few precious moments together before sleep claimed their exhausted forms.

"Lau," Larry began, turning to find his brother once he'd said farewell to the last guest, locking the door to the studio and seeking out his other half. Laurent was nowhere to be found however, and Larry frowned, going in search of him. He checked the supply room, where props and towels and bits of costuming were stored, but no luck. He checked the sound room, where the lights and music could be controlled from, but for simple workshops like these they preferred to use a stereo and their own custom speakers, rather than jacking into the facility's set-up. Laurent wasn't there either though, and Larry turned off the light in the room before backing out and closing the door. He reached for his phone, intending to text Laurent, but at just that moment the cell phone beeped.

**Laurent: can you lock up? got a call from the designer, he needed one of us to come down to size the jerseys**

**Larry: I just wasted ten minutes looking 4 u**

**Laurent: Im sorry Lar-Bear, make it up to u l8r**

**Larry: you keep saying that**

**Laurent: I mean it this time**

Rolling his eyes, Larry shoved the phone back into his pocket without responding. Everyone knew that of the two of them, he was the least likely to show his affection. Whereas Laurent had no trouble grabbing, hugging, and kissing his younger twin, Larry was more reserved in that aspect. But far from being unwilling, Larry was just used to getting attention from Laurent without having to go out of his way for it. He'd come to expect Laurent to chase after him; that was why these days, Laurent's inability to make time to coddle Larry was really rankling him. Passing by a mirror on his way out of the studio, Larry caught sight of his expression. He was scowling so deeply he was concerned the creases in his brow might be permanent. Releasing a heavy sigh, he locked up and stepped out into the cool night air. They were in New York currently, but that could change at any moment; it wasn't unusual for them to start the day on one side of the country and end it on another, lately.

**Laurent: say something, Larry. r u mad?**

Larry pulled his phone halfway from his pocket to check the message as he requested an Uber. Of course he was mad, but how could he say so? He was just as busy as Laurent was, it's not as if this was a one-sided thing, the rational side of his brain argued as he climbed into the back of the sedan that had pulled up only minutes later. Larry knew, objectively speaking, that it wasn't fair to expect Laurent to take on half the responsibilities of their fame and also the entirety of their personal life as well. The problem was, his mind wasn't objective, it was spoiled. It wanted Laurent to be more focused on him than anything else, it wanted Laurent to be willing to walk away from his projects and responsibilities to assure Larry that he was still number one in Laurent's eyes, that he was still the center of his older twin's universe. Was that too much to ask?

The car pulled up in front of the hotel, and Larry thanked the driver while swiping him a 5-star review and unfolding his long limbs out of the backseat. While Les Twins were famous in the US, they weren't yet at the level of being mobbed at hotel entrances yet, though they did sign their fair few autographs and pose for pictures with fans on a regular basis. Larry and Laurent both loved it, neither would give it up for the world. But they needed time for themselves, to recharge, to reconnect. They were fighting more and more lately, over stupid things sometimes, and thinking about it was making Larry even more upset. He rode up the elevator to the suite that'd been reserved in his name. It was adjacent to Laurent's, but who knew when he'd get back from the warehouse? Laurent was meticulous about their clothes, and with a budding fashion line about to explode onto the North American scene, he was a creative force to be reckoned with, terrorizing the designers and making demands of nothing less than perfection. Those jerseys could well be scrapped entirely if they weren't up to Laurent's standards at the end of this meeting.

Arriving in the room, Larry looked around. It had been cleaned by housekeeping while he was out, and the few things scattered around were his own. He would never get used to not sharing a room with Laurent when they traveled, but there was no way to really express that to the new team; they didn't know about Larry and Laurent of course, no one could know. It was one thing to touch and flirt and be sweet to one another on stage, but if anyone knew about them, really knew how deep those meaningful looks went - it'd ruin them. So they went along with the separate rooms, sleeping in their own beds, even though it was affecting both of them considerably, at least on the inside.

Removing his clothes, the layered leather jacket, designer t-shirt, watches and bracelets, Larry made his way into the well-lit bathroom, his black Armani Exchange boxers the last thing to go before he adjusted the shower to his liking, stepping under the spray. He allowed the water to beat down on his shoulders, pounding away the soreness from a day of constant movement. Before the workshop they'd made an appearance on a radio station, and they'd been asked to show some new choreo in the studio that would be used for a promo. Before that they'd done a morning show on television, and of course the audience had wanted to see a few moves from them as well. They did it, of course. They always did it. They were dancing machines, they'd been compared to robots more times than they could count. They were happy to do it, dance was what they loved, and sharing that love with the world was where they excelled. Les Twins were great dancers, but they were amazing performers, the people couldn't get enough and Larry and Laurent couldn't get enough of giving it to them.

Right now though, the only kind of 'giving it' on Larry's mind was the X-rated kind. Eyes closed against the shower spray, Larry's hand wrapped around his cock, intent on getting some relief before crashing for the night. He'd been pent up for over a week, and it was messing with his head. His hand stroked up and down his shaft, the shower water stimulating the head at the same time, and Larry exhaled slowly, thinking about how Laurent had moved during the workshop earlier. He was so fluid, so serpentine with his movements. Everyone knew that Laurent's solos often saw him writhing on the floor, but what they didn't know was that Laurent used those same moves on his brother, undulating on top of him in bed, pinning Larry down and grinding on him mercilessly, forcing broken moans and pleas from his brother's lips. Larry's hand sped up, working his dick as he imagined all the times Laurent had practiced his new moves on him, imagined Laurent's expression, a mirror reflection of his own lust, as he ground his hips down into Larry's, their cocks sliding against one another, slick with pre-cum and sweat as Laurent worked them into a passionate fervor.

A flick of his wrist and Larry was cumming, hips jerking forward as he fucked into his fist, his load more copious than usual due to the lack of action lately. Watching his semen swirl down the drain left Larry feeling even more unsatisfied than before. His hand was no replacement for his brother, and just like that, his scowl returned. Soaping himself up then rinsing down, Larry emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His phone's light was flashing, and he picked it up, finding a number of messages he'd missed, all from Laurent.

**Laurent: Larry u cant ignore me all night**

**Laurent: Larry Im working u know that**

**Laurent: Im doing this for us Lar-Bear**

I'm doing this for us. Rather than feel guilty, Larry just scoffed. Larry wanted to dance; the fashion thing was Laurent's pet project. Now, if Nike wanted to court them for a sneaker deal, that would be one thing, Larry would be on that deal like white on rice. But Laurent staying out all night to make sure some stupid shirts hung just-so, well that was less forgivable as far as Larry was concerned, at least when it came to him being neglected in the meantime. Too irritated to sleep, Larry instead raided the mini-bar, pouring himself a glass of Hennessy, neat. He almost walked away, but doubled back, snatching up the entire bottle and carrying it with him to the bed. If he couldn't have the warmth of his twin around him, he'd warm himself up.

Nursing the glass of cognac, Larry felt a small twinge of guilt. They had an interview in the morning and Laurent definitely wouldn't approve of him drinking; it had been his idea for them to avoid clubs during the week altogether, specifically for this reason. But Laurent wasn't here to stop him, which was part of the problem in the first place. When the next text came in, Larry's expression shifted from guilt to mischief.

**Laurent: what r u doing Larry?**

Larry finished off the glass, pouring a new one before picking up his phone and texting Laurent back.

**Larry: thinking about u**

He sat the phone on his towel-covered thigh, bringing the drink to his lips and waiting. Sure enough, only moments had passed before Laurent responded.

**Laurent: what r u thinking? I miss u**

Larry scoffed once more. If Laurent missed him, he'd be here with him. He wouldn't be here alone, jacking it in the shower like some lovesick, hormonal teenager because his brother, his lover, was more into some poly-cotton blend than him. He tossed back the remaining liquor in the glass, his head feeling a bit fuzzy by now, but he wasn't drunk yet, just a bit tipsy. He poured again, resting the bottle between his legs as he texted Laurent again.

**Larry: thinking about ur dick**

A giggle escaped Larry's lips before he could press them together smugly. If he knew his brother, and he did, then that message would have him fully distracted from what he was doing right now. Larry was almost never the initiator; as enthusiastically as he responded to Laurent's advances, that's usually what it was, a response. For him to take their conversation down this avenue was something new in their relationship, which had only quite recently moved from brotherly love to something new, something more.

**Laurent: Im listening. he's listening too. what about it?**

Taking a sip for courage, and then another one because the warm feeling in his stomach was spreading and he wanted to keep it going, Larry licked his lips and texted back his twin, the Hennessy coupled with his loneliness bolstering his courage as he let his freak flag fly on the iPhone's screen.

**Larry: about how it curves upward just right. how it hits my spot every single time.**

**Laurent: Larry r u drinking???**

Looking down at his cup, Larry burst out laughing. Of course that would be Laurent's first guess, what other reason could there be for Larry to be talking so recklessly? Smug, Larry took another sip of his drink, then replied to Laurent again, settling back against the pillows.

**Larry: so what if I am? what r u going to do about it?**

**Laurent: Punish you.**

A shiver passed through Larry as he read the words. He could distinctly remember the last time he'd been punished by Laurent. He'd sprained his ankle and been ordered to stay off of it for three weeks. He'd disobeyed the doctor's orders, practicing their routine in secret, and when Laurent had found out, there'd been hell to pay. He'd spent an entire week bound to the bed, only allowed up to use the bathroom, and Laurent had spanked his ass hard enough for it to glow with heat, every single one of those days. He'd also fed and bathed Larry in bed, massaging his muscles and just generally taking excellent care of him during his 'punishment', so much so that he hadn't even minded getting that spanking every morning. In fact, just thinking about it had his dick hard now, and he picked his phone up to reply.

**Larry: pervert. u just want to touch me**

**Laurent: I do. Are you saying you don't want it?**

Larry bit his bottom lip lightly. He knew Laurent was serious when his brother started texting with proper capitalization; it meant he was paying full attention. It'd been so long since Larry had Laurent's full attention, he wanted more. Greedily, he thought of what to say next, what would keep Lau's attention on him even longer. Finishing off the drink in his hand, he set the glass aside, his vision swimming just enough that he missed the edge of the bedside table, the glass falling to the carpet with a dull thud. In the process, his hand brushed against his towel-covered dick, and he got a naughty idea. Shifting the towel out of the way, he barely had to touch himself to get fully hard again, and holding the camera up, he took a picture of his hard shaft arcing up from his lap, exposed between the sides of the towel. He sent the picture to Laurent, then waited. The reply came almost immediately.

**Laurent: I knew you wanted it. Look at you, being such a slut for me.**

Laurent's dirty words made Larry's heart race. Normally cool as a cucumber, Larry had a weakness and Laurent was well aware of it. Just between the two of them, Larry melted into a puddle of shame and lust when Laurent talked dirty to him, calling him names and teasing him for his reactions. More than once during sex, Laurent had gotten Larry off without touching his dick at all, just slamming into him from behind while unleashing a litany of shameful words into his ear. He'd arched back into Laurent and keened brokenly as his cock pulsed, painting the bedclothes with his arousal, unable to hold back. He _was_ Laurent's slut, his whore, his cock-hungry little fucktoy. And right now, he was a neglected little slut with a hard cock and no one here to do anything about it.  
  
**Larry: u know what I need and yet Im here alone**  
  
Sulking, Larry leaned back into the pillows, his hand stroking his cock which was straining as if he hadn't already gotten off once in the shower. Only Laurent could do this to him, could reduce him to a desperate, whining mess. He was still squeezing his dick, thumbing the pearl of pre-cum at the tip, when he lifted the phone with his free hand. He froze in place as he read the words, then squeezed his eyes shut before reading them again. He was drunk, it was true. But not drunk enough to make up the words on the screen.  
  
**Laurent: I'm at the door. Come let me in.**


	2. Just hold on, I'm coming home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent realizes this time apart is affecting Larry just as much as it's affecting him.

The traffic was bumper to bumper; they said New York never slept but no one mentioned that they never parked either. Sitting in the back of an Uber, Laurent gritted his teeth in frustration, drumming his fingertips against the armrest. For what had to be the fiftieth time, he brought up the picture on his phone. Larry's face wasn't visible, only those hard cut abs as a backdrop for his pretty chocolate dick. They were identical twins; only their family, close friends, and diehard fans could tell them apart at first glance. But the only two people that would be able to tell their dick pics apart were the two of them, as the only two people intimately familiar with both of their cocks. Laurent was just a bit longer than Larry, a bit thicker. He claimed it was because he was older, and when Larry sulked about it, he distracted his younger twin with nasty promises of what he would use that extra length and girth to do to him. It worked every time.  
  
**Larry: u know what I need and yet Im here alone**  
  
This text came in just as the car had finally pulled up to the hotel, and Laurent smiled to himself. There Larry went again, with that whiny, sulky thing he did that he knew made Laurent crazy. It wasn't his fault that they were apart. They'd made the decision to come conquer the US. They knew from the beginning that in order to make their duo successful, it would take individual efforts on both their parts. Still, he couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty; was it true that he wasn't making enough time to spend with his baby brother? It felt as if time itself were conspiring against them, but Laurent was the big brother, and that carried weight. When they were younger, performing on the streets for pocket money, it was Laurent who was instructed to look out for Larry. It was his duty as big brother to make sure Larry was cared for properly. And where once that had meant holding his hand when they crossed the street and making sure Larry's shoes were double-knotted (he'd learned to tie shoelaces almost a year before Larry had), now it meant making sure his twin wasn't drinking to an excess or relegated to self-soothing, which from the looks of things he'd failed at this evening. _Fuck_.  
  
He waited impatiently as the elevator rose to their floor, exiting before the doors had even fully opened. He was glad the corridor was empty, that there was no one to see him sprint past his own hotel room and come to a halt in front of Larry's. He didn't knock, instead firing off a text message.  
  
**Laurent: I'm at the door. Come let me in.**  
  
He waited, demons stampeding in his heart. Would Larry let him in? He'd teased via text messages, but what if he was actually mad enough to spurn Laurent's advances tonight? Just as he was considering banging on the door, causing a scene and forcing Larry's hand, he heard the bolt slide free as the door unlocked, revealing Larry clad in nothing more than a loosely knotted towel, his eyes unfocused. "Laurent?" he asked, sounding as if he couldn't believe it. The uncertainty in Larry's voice made Laurent's heart ache. Had he really been so distant that Larry didn't think he'd come? What had happened to bring them so far apart?  
  
Laurent wasn't going to dwell on these thoughts; instead he would dedicate tonight to repairing the damage done. It didn't matter whose fault it was, at the end of the day. All that mattered was the relief in Larry's eyes when he reached out and touched Laurent's face, assuring himself that his brother was here, was real, wasn't some alcohol-induced hallucination. "I'm here, baby brother," he murmured, turning his head slightly to brush a kiss against those fingertips. Suddenly, Laurent had an armful of Larry, all 6'4 of his lanky frame wrapped around him, the towel falling away entirely in the process. Laughing as Larry peppered kisses all over his face and neck, Laurent stepped into the room properly and closed the door behind them, carrying Larry to the bed. "Let me shower first," Laurent requested, and though Larry sulked, scrunching that adorable face up, he nodded, lying back on the bed and watching as Laurent undressed.  
  
He made a show of it, tossing each garment this way and that, giving Larry a private strip tease, but he didn't want to waste too much time, so as soon as he was fully nude, he made his way into the bathroom, running the shower as hot as he could stand it. Lather and rinse, lather and rinse. He stepped out of the steamy shower, half-expecting to see Larry asleep on the bed, too drunk and exhausted to actually follow through on spending the night with him. So the sight that greeted his eyes was like a shock to the system. Larry was lying on his back, his legs bent at the knees, spread wide to give Laurent an unobstructed view as he prepped himself, his long, slim fingers stretching his tight hole, glistening with the slick lube they used. Laurent's cock lurched to life beneath the towel he'd been drying off with, walking to the foot of the bed. Larry's eyes followed his movements, but his fingers didn't stop, thrusting into his hole from an angle that made it impossible for him to touch the places he needed, the places only Laurent could find for him. "Please," Larry begged brokenly, his cheeks flushed with shame and arousal, his breathing uneven. "I need you."  
  
"I'm here, baby," Laurent murmured once more. He'd reassure Larry as many times as he needed to, ten times or a million, it didn't matter. He was going to take such good care of his brother, be by his side until the day Larry pushed him away for good. It'd almost happened once, but Lylah was history now, relegated to her role as mother of his child. He had Larry's heart, and he wouldn't entrust it to anyone else for it to be broken again, not if he had any say in it.  
  
He moved up the bed, coming to a stop once he was at eye-level with those thrusting fingers, and he leaned in to nose Larry's hand out of the way. His tongue snaked forward, flicking against the rim of Larry's hole, dragging a moan from his brother. He did it again, chasing that sound once more, his tongue circling and licking and lapping lewdly, the wet sounds beautifully nasty in the silence of the hotel room. He pushed his tongue inside, tasting the sweet, heady flavor that was so distinctly Larry that no lube could hide it from him, the taste stronger than any aphrodisiac could ever hope to be. Thrusting in and out, he propped Larry's knees up with his hands, spreading him even wider, savoring the breathless panting coming from above his head. He licked and Larry gasped, he sucked and Larry moaned, it was as if he was a puppet master, tugging on the strings of his younger brother, making him dance harder than he ever did on stage, his hips grinding down into the bed then arching upward, trying to force Laurent even deeper, until finally his tongue just wasn't enough and he was reduced to begging once more. "Laurent," he practically sobbed. "Please, I can't t-take it anymore, I need it."  
  
"What do you need, baby?" Laurent asked, his lips brushing against Larry's sensitive pucker as he spoke.  
  
"I need you," Larry mewled, his chest rising and falling sharply.  
  
"Be more specific Larry. Where do you need me? What do you need from me?" Laurent teased, his voice sounding so patient one would never think his cock was hard as nails, leaking copiously and all but demanding that he sheathe himself into Larry immediately, his mind clouded with desire even as he managed to portray himself as perfectly in control of this moment. He squirted more lube into his brother, pushing the thick, gooey mess up into him with his fingers.  
  
"Oh god," Larry choked out, writhing in place, trying to find the friction he needed but couldn't reach, not without Laurent's help. "I need your cock, need you inside of me, need you to fuck me!" he shouted, all pretenses of modesty thrown aside as he called out what he needed, what Laurent needed to hear.  
  
"Shit," Laurent cursed under his breath, surging upward to catch Larry's lips with his own, pressing a bruising kiss down into that shameless mouth, as if he could taste the wantonness of his brother if he just licked deep enough, their kiss filthy and wet and desperate as Laurent's cock rubbed along the crack of Larry's ass, lube leaking from his hole and coating the length of his brother's cock. He angled his hips, head catching against Larry's well-worked hole, and with a thrust from both of them, Laurent was suddenly balls deep in his brother, the sound of his screams loud enough to wake the dead two states over. Laurent clapped a hand over Larry's mouth, thrusting even deeper still before withdrawing almost fully, before hilting himself once more. "That hurt, baby?" he asked breathlessly, doing it again, slamming his hips forward punishingly. Larry nodded, tears in the corner of his eyes as he scooted further up the bed, trying to escape the pain.  
  
"Good," Laurent hissed, giving no quarter as he fucked into his brother as hard as he could, not giving him a chance to adjust. "I told you that you'd be punished, didn't I?" he asked. "Told you about drinking so much. You know big brother only wants what's best for you. But you don't listen. Little sluts never do. But you'll learn tonight." He pulled out, using his free hand to flip Larry beneath him, yanking his hips back and sliding home once more, the sound of Larry's broken cries making his cock swell even more if possible. "Anything to say for yourself?" Laurent asked, bringing his hand down in a punishing smack to Larry's ass before thrusting into him deeply.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Larry cried, his fingers gripping the sheets at either side of his head, his tear-stained cheek pressed flush against the fresh linen.  
  
"Tell me why you're sorry," Laurent demanded, still maintaining a punishing pace as he brutally snapped his hips, colliding their bodies together audibly.  
  
"I was bad, Laurent, I was b-bad, I didn't listen, oh fuck!" Larry clenched his eyes shut, but that didn't stop the tears from falling as Laurent spanked him yet again. "I won't do it again, I'll be good, I'll be so g-good, please, oh fuck, please!" he begged.  
  
Laurent rubbed and kneaded Larry's reddening skin, massaging the pain away, though his ass was certain to be bruised for the next day or so. "Say you'll be a good little whore," he hissed beside Larry's ear, his hips rolling nonstop, churning Larry's insides.  
  
"Oh god, Laurent," Larry sobbed. "I'll... I'll be a good little whore," he moaned, his erection returning as the pain of Laurent's abusive violation gave way to pleasure once more.  
  
"Who's whore are you, Larry?" Laurent demanded hotly. "Who's ass is this?" he asked, aiming for that spot he could find with ease, their bodies as as familiar to each other as themselves. He knew he'd found it by the way Larry arched beneath him, his cock dribbling pre-cum beneath them like a faucet, staining the bed sheets with his desire.  
  
"Yours," he panted, his voice taking on a higher pitch. "Yours, yours yours," he chanted as Laurent battered his prostate with his dick, every thrust making him forget his tiredness, his loneliness, their separation. All Larry wanted was more, he was greedy and needy and he belonged to Laurent and he wanted his big brother to know it. "I'm yours, Laurent, your whore, it's all yours, please fucking... oh god, Laurent please I can't, I'm going to die," he cried, flexing his fingers into the sheets because it was all he could do, his body tensing up as Laurent worked him over mercilessly.  
  
"Die for me, baby. _La petite morte._ Cum for me, Larry." he punctuated the words with deep, hard thrusts, forcing the orgasm out of his brother, who came with a shuddering scream, pressing his own face into the sheets as his untouched cock released stream after stream of cum over his abdomen and the sheets, shooting so hard his toes curled and his ass clenched down like a vise around Laurent's cock, triggering his own orgasm. He roared, not caring who heard, his fingers digging into Larry's hips as he rocked forward hard enough to send them both crashing down to the bed, his cum spilling into his brother's insides in a hot wave of liquid fire.  
  
Boneless, Larry whimpered beneath Laurent after a while of heavy breathing, and Laurent understood immediately, rolling them both to the side to get Larry out of the wet spot of his own making. He grabbed his still damp towel, wiping Larry's front with it, as well as mopping up the flood of cum and lube leaking from Larry's hole as soon as Laurent's cock had softened enough to pop free. Larry turned, burying his face against Laurent's chest, too keyed up still to speak, but they didn't need words, they never had.  
  
Laurent stroked Larry's hair, whispering sweet nothings into his brother's ears, massaging the back of his neck and coaxing him down from his submissive high, his attention laser focused on Larry's needs. Similarly, Larry clung to Laurent, keeping him close, making it obvious how much he needed Laurent right now. He knew that, as much as Laurent enjoyed giving Larry the abuse he craved, his brother was prone to bouts of overwhelming guilt afterwards, wondering if he'd gone too far, if the tears that spilled from Larry during the act would make him hate Laurent, afterwards. They both needed aftercare in moments like this one, and neither had to ask for it. That was part of the beauty of being twins, they were so in tune with each other's needs that they could usually tend to them without having to ask.  
  
"Laurent," Larry whispered, when he was finally able to speak.  
  
"Yeah, Lar-bear?" Laurent responded, still rubbing circles into Larry's back.  
  
"Let's not go this long apart anymore, okay?" he asked, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to explain what he meant.  
  
But of course he didn't, Laurent knew what he meant. Laurent always knew. That's what big brothers were for. "Let's not," he agreed simply.  
  
Larry smiled, his lashes fluttering as he drifted off to sleep, safe in Laurent's arms, where he belonged. Laurent began drifting off not long after, tucking the blanket up around them and savoring the sweet heat of his twin, just what he needed after a long day, what he'd always need if they were going to conquer America, together forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, that's a wrap! I'm STILL so pumped that Les Twins won World of Dance 2017, not that I had any worries they wouldn't be crowned the Greatest Dancers in the World. Their twinning is something special, something other groups - be they best friends, or married couples, or even siblings, just can't compete with. I love them, and I love their love, and if I have a pervy way of showing it, well that's just because I'm a terrible, twincest-addicted pervert. But if you've read this far, then you probably are too! Kudos if you think I did good, comment if you'd like more, I love to hear from you all!

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fic, there needs to be more Les Twins smut out there & I'm willing to help make that happen. Please have a mercy on me, I'm new to being on this side of the story. If you want to see more, or what happens next, please leave a comment, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for an encouraging word.


End file.
